


Of Crossing Swords and Crossing Lines

by wingedflower



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Action, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bromance, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Injured Lance (Voltron), Major Character Injury, Protective Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:02:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingedflower/pseuds/wingedflower
Summary: Written as part of a fic exchange with IcyPanther, following the prompt "shopping trip went wrong". For the first time in his life, Keith sees something at the space mall that he actually wants. He's willing to do everything to get it - especially if it involves ignoring Lance, who tries to talk him out of it. Things end up as well as expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IcyPanther](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/gifts).



> As mentioned in the summary, this is my piece for a fic exchange I did with IcyPanther, who is an amazing write and a good friend of mine. The prompt was "shopping trip went wrong" with characters of our choice. Please make sure you check her story as well! It's called "All That Glitter Isn't Gold" and you can find it right [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13797720).
> 
>  
> 
> This was supposed to be a one-shot, but after finishing the first draft I realized it'd work a whole lot better as a two-shot. So here is the first part, and the second part will be up in 2-3 days!

“Are you done?” Keith grumbled when Lance finally emerged from the cosmetics shop. The red paladin was leaning against the wall, surrounded by multiple shopping bags and looking rather weary.

“Yes, Mullet, I’m  _done_ , you can stop whining now,” Lance said and placed his two bags –  _did he just fill_ two _bags with beauty products?_ Keith thought in disgust – on the floor with all the others. “Sorry to keep you waiting and all, but it’s not like we could head back to the castle without Allura’s favorite shampoo. She is a  _princess_ , you know; it is rude to ignore her request.”

“You’re just scared she’ll kick your ass if you don’t buy her what she asked for,” Keith deadpanned.

“Well, that too.” Lance straightened up and stretched his long arms over his head, cracking his neck several times. “I still think you would've enjoyed much more if you just joined me in the store. We could've found something for your awful hair!” he flashed a devious grin at Keith.

Keith rolled his eyes and started to pick their bags off the floor. “My hair is fine as it is, thanks.” He pointed one finger at the general direction of the exit. “Can we go now?”

Lance sighed while helping him with the rest of the bags. “Yeah, sure. Party pooper,” he muttered, not really trying to lower his voice. “I can’t believe that of all people, _you're_ the one I had to go to the space mall with."

“Hey, I didn’t even _want_ to go!” Keith snapped. They usually went all together to the mall, since those visits were not only necessary to get supplies but were also an opportunity to take a break from their ongoing duties and freshen up. However, the castleship had taken quite a hit after their last battle against the Galra, so pretty much everyone found themselves swamped with work: Coran, Hunk and Pidge were busy with technical repairs while Allura and Shiro insisted on going through some new defense plans; they could never know when the Galra would strike again.

That left Lance and Keith with today's shopping duty, and, to put it gently, it was a horrible combination. Lance was like a kid in a candy store when it came to a trip to the mall - only this place had more than a hundred candy stores. Keith didn't bother to hide his irritation whenever Lance got excited about a new place and ran to check it out (which happened about every three minutes), while Lance kept complaining that Keith was ruining all the fun. Nope, not a good combination at all.

Yet they managed somehow to buy everything on their list. They were on their way back to their pod when a metal gleam from a nearby corridor caught Keith's eye all of a sudden. He came to a halt and snapped his head at its direction, causing the other boy to bump into his back.

Lance stumbled backwards with a yelp, shopping bags rustling loudly as he tried to regain his footing. "Dude, what the hell?" he grunted, but Keith ignored him and started walking at the direction of the source of light, leading them into a narrow, somewhat gloomy corridor, which seemed abandoned save for one shop that was located at the very edge of it, next to what looked like a storeroom door.

"Jeez, Keith, this place looks like a crack den," Lance said, voice quivering despite the joking tone. But Keith wasn't really listening to him. He stood in front of the display window of the shop, eyes wide and mouth open in awe.

The window was filled with every type of cold weapon one could possibly imagine. Swords, spheres, axes, knives and daggers in various shapes and sizes stood there for display, their metal shimmer a stark contrast to the dusty, stained window. Keith's eyes slowly trailed across the display until they lay on one particular sword that was hung at the back, nearly hidden from view. The blade was long and slender and had a slight, elegant curve to it. It almost looked like -

"A _katana_ ," Keith whispered, fists tightening around the handles of the bags he was holding in what was probably the universal gesture of _must have_.

"Say what now?" Lance asked in confusion.

Keith's eye twitched. He nearly forgot Lance was there. "A samurai sword," he explained impatiently. "You know, one of the finest cutting weapons in world military history?"

" _Riiiight_." Lance's shoulders dropped. "Well, it does look cool and all, but we can't really afford it since we have zero money left, so how about we leave this creepy place and head back to the nice, _safe_ pod and then – "

"Hey!" Keith barked, already making his way into the dark shop. "How much for that long sword over there?"

"What the – _Keith!_ " Lance bristled, trying and failing to grab the red paladin's jacket. "Did you not hear what I just said? We are _out_ of money! Do you need that in Spanish? _Estamos sin dinero!_ "

Apparently Keith has decided it was an ignoring-everything-Lance-says-day, because he was already standing in front of the counter, turning his head here and there in search of the shop's owner. "Is anybody here?" he called.

More silence followed his question. Lance shuffled a bit closer to him, unable to surpass a shiver. "Keith, I _really_ don't like this place," he whispered.

"Will you shut up already?" Keith hissed. "There's nothing to be afraid of – "

A loud gurgling noise was suddenly heard and both paladins jumped in place, dropping their bags to the floor.

"Pardon my manners," said a soft, sweet voice as an alien about the height of Lance's waist emerged from behind the counter (or more like _materialized_ behind it, judging by the sickening noise). He kind of looked like the love child of a ferret and a snake, with narrow, yellow eyes that glowed in the dim light and a thick, brown fur that covered every inch of its lithe body. "I was enjoying a most delightful nap and was not expecting any customers at such a peculiar hour."

Keith frowned. "It's barely noon."

The alien's mouth twisted into a wide grin, exposing a set of pointy teeth that made the hairs on Lance's back prickle. "Well, you are quite an observant one, aren't you."

Keith huffed out a breath, never the one to spend time on small talks. "That long, curved sword in the display window," he said bluntly and pointed at the window. "How much do you want for it?"

"Hold on, Keith," Lance murmured, looking at the shop owner uncomfortably. "We don't even know this guy's name."

The alien's grin widened. "I thought you'd never ask. I am Gediok, and to whom do I owe this pleasure, please?"

"I'm Keith," Keith said, "And this is Lance."

"Very well, Keith and Lance. I must say, you have an impeccable taste in blades. This sword is truly a beauty, isn't it? No wonder it had caught your attention. Do you happen to know what the blade is made of?"

Keith bit his lower lip, trying not to look too eager to know the answer. The struggle must have been evident on his face as Gediok released a short, grating laughter. "Orlean steel, mined straight from the core of planet Orlea," he said in an even sweeter voice; it was starting to make Lance a bit nauseous. "Makes up the sharpest type of blades known to this universe, so sharp it can cut right through bone in just a single thrust. Trust me, young lad, you are not the first nor the last one to lay eyes on this extraordinarily deadly weapon."

"I don't like this guy at all," Lance murmured in Keith's ear. The Cuban boy seemed to become at least five shades paler throughout Gediok's description; but Keith only looked more pumped up, flexing and unflexing his fingers nervously at his sides.

"I want it," he blurted out. "How much do I need to pay?"

Gediok quirked one furry eyebrow. "Oh, this item has no price tag," he purred, yellow eyes glistening greedily. "No amount of Gacs can possibly buy an original Orlean steel sword. One has to _prove_ he is worthy of owning it."

"You mean by combat?" Keith asked, body already tensing as his right palm hovered above the blade at the back of his belt.

Gediok gave another toothy grin. "Smart lad. Yes, this is _exactly_ what I mean. But please bear in mind that no one has ever beaten the Orlean blade to this very day."

"Then I guess I'll be the first one," Keith said through gritted teeth.

Gediok chuckled. "Feisty one, as all youngsters are. Well, if you truly wish to proceed, you may pick any weapon in this shop to go against the Orlean blade, which will be handled by me, of course. The rules are simple: the one to draw the first blood wins."

"And the loser?" Keith asked, ignoring Lance's gasp at the words "first blood."

"If I lose, well, I will hand you the Orlean blade as we agreed upon; if you lose, you must admit your defeat and leave my shop immediately, without arguing or demanding a rematch."

"That's it?" Keith asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Gediok snored. "What do you think? I have no interest in capturing nor enslaving you; as for killing you, well, there is a good chance the blade will do the work for me, so why bother any further."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down!" Lance finally interrupted the conversation. He tugged at Keith's sleeve and yanked him backwards forcefully. "Are you out of your mind?" he hissed. "You already have your bayard _and_ your knife, and the castle's kitchen has like a dozen more knives, why the hell do you need another blade?"

Keith shook off Lance's grip. "Oh, so _you're_ allowed to stop at every shop in this goddamn mall and buy twenty different masks for your stupid face, but _I_ can't have one thing that I actually want?" he snarled.

"That's different!" Lance shrieked silently. "I pay for my stuff with _money_ , not with some weird fighting-to-the-death pact! Besides, how can you be so sure he'll actually _give_ you the sword, even if you win? I mean, I know you're bad at reading people and all, but this guy pretty much has the word 'fraud' written in glitter all over his face! What if you win and instead of letting you walk away he calls the mall's security? Who are _Galra_ , in case you forgot?"

"Then I'll take them out too," Keith said dryly and pushed Lance to the side as he stepped forward and offered his hand to the shop owner. "Deal. Let's fight."

Gediok hummed in content and enveloped Keith's hand in his small paw. "Very well," he said. "Now, would you like to take a dobash to decide what would be your weapon of choice? We have a rather impressive selection here at the store; I'm sure you will find something to your liking."

"No need, I've already got my weapon of choice," Keith said and finally drew his knife, holding it in front of Gediok's face. The latter startled backwards, looking surprised for the first time since they got here, but composed himself in an instant and examined the blade curiously. "Luxite, huh? Impressive. Not as sharp as Orlean steel, but does a fine job nonetheless." His eyes met Keith's again. "Where did you get this, if I may ask?"

"None of your business," Keith said without thinking. He flinched, expecting to be reprimanded for his rudeness, but Gediok only threw his head back and croaked another snort of laughter. "Alright, alright. After all, I am in no position to pry. However…" he stroked one of his whiskers thoughtfully. "I'm feeling rather generous today, so how about we spice things up a bit? If you lose the match, you may pick any weapon in the store as a consolation prize – apart from the Orlean blade, of course – but you must give up your blade and leave it here. It will surely be a nice addition to the display."

"Not in a million years," Keith said sharply, tightening his grip around the knife. It was his only connection to his past, to his absent mother; he wouldn't give it up for all the swords in the universe. "We either do this match as we agreed before, or we don't do it at all."

Gediok sighed, although he did not look particularly disappointed. "Very well. Can't say I didn't try." He gestured towards a black curtain that covered the far wall of the room. "Now please, follow me here. I have a back room which is much more adequate for this type of activity than this tiny shop of mine."

"Keith, wait," Lance pleaded. He caught Keith's shoulder and forced him to turn back and look at him. "Please don't do this. This isn't like one of the simulations in the castle; you can get hurt for real."

"I'll be fine," Keith said in exasperation. "This guy is like half my size, Lance, I can take him out before you blink."

"But he said no one has ever beaten the what-its-name blade to this very day! He must be pretty damn good with that sword!"

"He's just trying to scare us, come on, it's probably all just big talk."

"I don't know… I have a really bad feeling about it," Lance shifted from leg to leg. "Can't we just go back to the castle? We're already late, the others will start to get worried and – "

"We are late because of _you!_ " Keith burst out, wrenching his shoulder free from Lance's grip. " _You're_ the one who spent the entire morning buying all kinds of junk that wasn't even on the list, and I was the one who had to wait for you like an idiot every single time! But _no_ , you just _can't_ wait another five minutes for _me_ , because this match doesn't have anything to do with something _you_ like! Damn it, Lance, sometimes you only think about yourself, you know that?!"

Lance opened his mouth but no words came out, apparently too shocked by Keith's reaction. Keith felt his stomach clench, already regretting his harsh words, but it couldn't be helped right now. He had a fight to win and he couldn't let Lance distract him. The blue paladin was probably just whining because weapons and combats bored him to death; still, it didn't mean Keith would let him ruin his chance to win the sharpest sword in the universe.

He was an excellent swordsman, who had already proved he was strong enough to become part of the Blade of Marmora. He could do this.

Lance stood in the middle of the shop and stared at Keith as the red paladin disappeared behind the curtain, following Gediok. He knew Keith had always been a hothead, but this… this was a whole new level of hotheadness. Storming into an abandoned and probably-not-entirely-legal arms shop and throwing every bit of common sense out of the window over a single, dumb sword, like some kid fussing about a new toy… Lance's fists clenched at his sides. _He_ was the only who was only thinking about himself? Keith had just left him alone with all of their bags!

Well, if Mullet wanted to do this by himself so badly, that was fine with Lance. He should just head back to the castle and deny he had anything to do with it. For all he cared Keith could lose an eye in this stupid match. Or at least get a decent haircut.

However… Lance turned his head to the door, then back to the black curtain. A lump formed in his throat and he tried to push it down without success. He did _not_ trust Gediok at all; he was like the most stereotypic Disney villain ever (no wonder Keith didn't see right through his mask – Lance doubted the guy had ever seen a Disney movie in his life). And although he knew Keith was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, even if he had to fight his way out, something in Lance's gut told him he should not leave him alone with this alien.

Lance sighed. Why did he always have to be such a _good_ friend?

Leaving the shopping bags in a neat pile under the counter he made his way to the curtained wall, shoulders hunched. If he had any luck the fight would be short and they would be back in time for lunch. His stomach was already rumbling, though not entirely from hunger.

He passed through the curtain and found himself in a surprisingly large room - about half the size of a school gym. It was empty save for a few dusty crates, on which Lance gingerly took a sit, eyes scanning the space around him. The room was dimly lit by a single lightbulb and had no windows nor vents. It kind of looked like an underground arena, where illegal wrestling matches or dog fights were held. Lance lowered his eyes to the floor and his breath hitched at the sight of large, dark, long-drained stains that could only imply how the previous fights Gediok held here have ended. Did the mall's management even _know_ about this place? Lance seriously considered reporting to them later about the whole thing. Assuming they'd get out of there alive, of course.

Both fighters already stood in their positions, each at an opposite corner of the room. Keith was holding his knife in both hands, body hunched forward and ready to pounce, while Gediok idly moved a claw across the Orlean blade, looking almost bored.

"I see your friend has decided to join us," he said without sparing Lance a look.

Keith glanced at Lance for a brief second before returning his gaze to the opponent in front of him, his face blank. _Geez, Mullet, you're welcome,_ Lance thought in exasperation.

"Shall I review the rules of the match once more before we begin?" Gediok asked.

"There's only one rule," Keith grumbled. "The one who draws the first blood wins."

Gediok bared his teeth, not looking so bored anymore. "Well, let us begin then."

And so, the fight was on.

And it was _intense._ Lance already knew Keith was an amazing swordsman (even if he'd never told him so, because there was absolutely no need for that ridiculous mullet of his to get any bigger than it already was), so he wasn't surprised at the skill and grace with which the red paladin moved around. But the other guy wasn't an amateur either; in fact, he was a pretty strong fighter, despite being half the size of Keith. He was lithe and quick and handled the Orlean sword with ease, even though the blade was almost the length of his body. No wonder he was so confident about having this match, Lance thought as his stomach knotted in anxiety.

This dance went on like this for several minutes as no one seemed to be getting the upper hand. Every time Keith thrusted his knife he was blocked by Gediok, not even close to brushing his fur, only to block him himself when the alien went for a counter-attack. None of them left his opponent even the tiniest opening. Frankly, if this was a training match and not an actual fight to the death, Lance would have probably lost interest by this point.

A sickening cracking noise, like bones breaking, suddenly caught Lance's attention. Gediok was standing with his back to him, sword held in both paws as he pinned down Keith's blade. But the vertebras on the alien's back were now twisting back and forth, like a cat getting ready to hack up a hairball, and something thin and covered with brown fur suddenly sprouted right from the middle of his back…

Lance gasped in both disgust and shock as he realized what it was. An _arm._ That slimy bastard was growing up another _arm!_

He felt his entire body light up with rage. Gediok was _cheating!_ Damnit, he _knew_ it was all a scheme!

But then his wrath was replaced with horror as realization dawned upon him. If Gediok used that extra arm to release the sword from where it was locked with Keith's blade and attack anew, Keith would have no chance of blocking the attack. Gediok would probably aim to stab him from the side and it would be way too quick for Keith to respond. He was completely cornered.

He would be dead in a second.

It all happened so fast. One moment Lance was sitting on the crate, watching helplessly at Gediok's third arm sweep forward and grab the hilt of the Orlean sword, then raised up again to deliver the final blow. He saw Keith's eyes widen in terror, looking for a way out but knowing there was none.

The next moment he found himself standing right behind Gediok – he had absolutely no recollection of getting there – with his right palm wrapped in an iron grip around the Orlean blade, stopping it mid-air.

He had exactly half a second to catch both Keith and Gediok's stunned expressions before pain like he never knew before erupted in his palm, sending waves of fire up through his arm and to his entire body.

"That was a very bad idea," he managed to croak before his vision turned white and he collapsed to the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reception of this fic was simply overwhelming. I deeply thank you all for you lovely, supportive comments and I'm sorry I didn't have the time to respond to each one individually! I'll try harder this time, so please keep 'em coming :)
> 
> Anyway, here is the second and last part! Please mind the tags of graphic descriptions of blood, injury, etc.

" _Lance!_ " Keith barely remembered to shove his knife back into its sheath before he found himself kneeling next to Lance, whose face was scrunched in agony, tears already gathering at the corners of his tightly shut eyes. "Lance, are you okay?!"

That was clearly a dumb question as all Lance could provide for an answer was a soft whimper. Keith turned his gaze to the blue paladin's right palm and felt his stomach somersault because _Quiznak that was a lot of blood._ A long, thin cut stretched from below Lance's middle finger to the upper part of his wrist, with bright-red blood steadily leaking from it, already staining the sleeve of his jacket. Keith barely managed to swallow back bile as he noticed a glimpse of something white under all the red. _The blade is so sharp it can cut right through bone in just a single thrust._ A wave of dizziness washed over him, but he forced himself to keep it together. He needed to act quickly, or Lance could lose his hand.

"Hey, you! Don't just stand there, do something!" he barked at Gediok. The shop owner seemed to have recovered from the initial shock and was now leaning against the wall, watching the two paladins with a blank expression. The Orlean sword was still held firmly in his paw, but the third arm seemed to be gone.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" he said. "I have no medical supplies in my shop; you'll have to go to the first aid station for these."

Keith's jaw twitched and it took all he had to stop himself from lunging at Gediok and giving him another taste of his knife. "Can't you at least call them and tell them to come here?" he asked through gritted teeth. "In case you hadn't noticed, we aren't exactly in shape to walk all the way there right now." Not with Lance bleeding all over the floor.

Gediok huffed out a breath as if all of this was a waste of his precious time. "I have no interest in people who aren't customers coming and sniffing around my shop. It is your friend's fault he got hurt in the first place; no one asked him to interfere with the match. If you choose to get involved with his recklessness, that is your problem, but I must ask you now to respect the rule we’d agreed upon earlier and leave my shop immediately."

Keith's eyes widened. "Are you kidding me? The match isn't over yet!"

"The one to draw the first blood wins," Gediok said in a louder voice, a dangerous sheen in his yellow eyes. "Considering you friend's condition, I believe that would be me. Am I wrong?"

"He wasn't even part of the match! Besides, you were _cheating!_ " Keith was standing now, blood roaring in his ears.

Gediok didn't seem too agitated by the accusations. "We’ve never stated _whose_ blood had to be drawn in order to win the match," he said darkly. "As for cheating, well, it _is_ a rather tricky term, so I guess it depends on how one would define it. The bottom line is that I won and you lost, so you must leave. _Now._ " He basically growled the last word, twirling the sword in his claws as if to emphasize what would happen exactly if Keith and Lance stayed there a tick longer.

All of this did not make Keith falter the slightest bit. It only infuriated him further, if anything; he was more than ready to charge forward and strangle Gediok with his bare hands, press against his ugly, furry windpipe until the bastard begged for his life… but one quick look at his friend and Keith felt all of his fighting spirits flag at once. Lance's entire palm was painted crimson now, and the boy was teetering dangerously in his place, clutching his wrist with his uninjured hand as if trying to keep it in place.

Keith sighed. "Fine. Just give us a sec," he hissed at Gediok, who still looked completely unmoved by the mess in front of him. Realizing he had no better means at the moment, Keith took off his own jacket and knelt back in front of Lance. "We'll have to use this for a while, to stop the bleeding," he said quietly, and without further warning wrapped the red jacket – _how fitting_ , he thought bitterly – around the bleeding palm, tightening it as much as he could and tying the two sleeves together to hold it in place. It was far from enough, but Keith hoped it would at least slow down the bleeding until they had the chance to get some real medical attention.

Lance cried out and tried to wriggle his hand free, newfound tears trickling down his cheeks – _I made Lance cry, I him_ cry, _for fuck’s sake,_ Keith thought in horror - but Keith's grip was strong, even though he still felt like throwing up any minute. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know it hurts, but we have to get out of here _right_ _now._ Do you think you can walk?" he hoped for a positive answer, because he had no idea how he was supposed to carry both Lance _and_ their shopping bags all the way out. Technically, Lance could hold some bags in his left hand, but Keith didn't want to burden him with this task - not when he was in so much pain.

Lance did his best to focus on Keith's question as the pain seemed to mess up his brain. Could he walk? He had no idea. Everything just _hurt_ too much. His entire arm felt like it was on fire, the pressure from Keith's make-shift bandage only making it worse, and his head was pounding mercilessly – from pain or blood loss, he wasn't sure, probably both – that even the weak light of the room hurt his eyes and made him sick. He didn't feel like he could move any time soon. He just wanted to lie on the floor and pass out until someone put him in a healing pod.

But there was a certain urgency to Keith's words that he could simply not ignore. He hadn't really listened to his conversation with Gediok – he heard their voices, but his pain-blinded mind couldn't quite grasp the meaning of the words – but he had the feeling that if they were not out of this place soon, things would get _really_ bad. Like, worse than having your palm sliced open from top to bottom.

So he nodded weakly, grimacing as the movement sent his head spinning all over again, and got to his feet, legs shaking so hard he would have probably toppled over if Keith hadn't caught his good arm for support.

"Come on," Keith murmured in his ear and guided him to the curtained wall, not bothering to spare Gediok one last look. He knew there was nothing he could do right now to make him pay, so why bother.

Somehow - with the help of sheer will as Keith wasn't really able to keep supporting Lance once he gathered all their shopping bags in his arms - they made their way out of the shop and back to the main hall where they came from. Keith was just about to search for a decent-looking alien and ask for directions to the first aid station when Lance fell back to his knees, barely stopping himself from face-planting the floor with his one good hand as the injured one dangled uselessly at his side.

"Hey, you can't do that," Keith tried to coax, patting Lance's back but not sitting down yet since they really had no time to waste. "We need to get your hand treated and we won’t be able to if you stay here."

Lance showed no signs of hearing him and Keith gulped, risking a glance at the injured hand. He winced as he caught sight of his jacket, already moist and dripping dark, crimson drops from their short trip out here. No, there was no way to bring Lance to the first aid station in time. Although the chances of him bleeding to death until they got there were slim – after all, the blade didn't hit his neck or chest or any other major arteries, thank the universe – it was still a pretty serious wound, and walking like this through the crowded halls of the mall would attract way too much unwanted attention. Keith has already gotten them into enough trouble for one day.

There was only one thing left to do.

Keith took a deep, steadying breath, and activated his hand comm. "Shiro? Can you hear me?" he said, praying his leader would reply and at the same time _not_ wanting to have this conversation right now.

To both his relief and dismay, Shiro's voice rang through the comm in an instant. "Hi there, Keith. How's it going?"

Keith swallowed hard. "It's… not so great. Lance is injured and we need someone to come pick us up, like, right now. A-and bring a first aid kit."

"What happened?" Shiro demanded the second Keith finished talking, and Keith hated how he shivered at the harsh tone; like a scared teenager who had crushed his parents' car and now had to call them and ask for a ride home. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll explain everything later," he sighed. "But he has a really deep cut on his palm and we don't have anything to contain the bleeding other than my jacket."

"Does he have any other injuries? Are _you_ injured too?"

"No. Just Lance's hand." Keith licked his suddenly dry lips. "Please hurry."

"No problem. Coran and I will be there in five dobashes. Stay where you are so we can track down your signatures," Shiro cleared his throat before continuing in a softer tone, "And don't worry; everything is going to be alright. Just make sure you keep talking to Lance so he won't lose conscious. I know you can do this."

Keith barely managed an affirmative hum before turning off the comm, the concern and trust in Shiro's words making him even sicker. He did not deserve that trust.

And he certainly did _not_ deserve Lance risking his life to protect him after everything he has done to get them into this mess.

Having nothing better to do in the meantime, Keith sank to the floor next to Lance and rested a hand on his shoulder. "I just talked to Shiro," he said. "He and Coran are on their way with some bandages. We're going to fix you up in no time, so just hold on a bit longer, okay?"

Lance only groaned, but that meant he was still conscious and Keith relaxed ever so slightly. "Lance…" The question left his lips before he could stop it, "Why did you do this? Why did you catch the blade?"

Because this could have ended so much worse than an injured hand. Had Lance approached the sword in a slightly different angle, or missed and didn't catch it in time… he could have had his entire limb chopped off, or his chest impaled, or… Keith shuddered violently as he considered all the gruesome options. It wasn't as if he’d never witnessed such injuries before; he was fighting a war, after all, and as an expert at close combat with a bayard that morphed into a sword, slicing through other people's flesh was a rather familiar (albeit repulsive) experience for him. But the thought of something like that happening to one of his friends…

"He was going to kill you," Lance murmured all of a sudden, pulling Keith from his dark thoughts. The blue paladin slowly turned his head to look at him. His face was white as a sheet and covered in sweat and his eyes tired, but they were burning with such resolution it nearly took Keith's breath away. "I couldn't… I couldn't just sit there and let him do it."

"But _you_ almost died," Keith said, his voice wavering.

Lance shrugged, grimacing as the movement jostled his damaged hand. "Yeah," he said faintly. "Guess I hadn't… thought it through…" his eyes rolled backwards and his body pitched to the side, head bumping against Keith's shoulder.

Keith caught his shoulder with one arm and tapped on his cheek with the other. "Hey, Lance, stay with me," he called. He looked at the jacket and realized to his horror that it was completely soaked at this point, the blood already pooling in a small pond on the floor. Keith was distantly aware of the awkward stares of the passers-by, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.

" _Lance!_ " he was yelling now, growing more and more desperate, but the blue paladin remained still. "Come on, Lance, you _jerk_ , you can't do this to me, _please_ …"

" _Keith!_ " Keith's head snapped at the direction of the voice and he nearly cried with relief when he saw Shiro sprinting towards him, Coran hot on his heels. The advisor was hugging a large, white box which Keith realized as one of the many first aid kits that were stored in the infirmary.

"He just passed out," he said dumbly as Shiro slid to a halt in front of them, kneeling down and taking Lance in his arms within seconds.

"Yes, I can see that," Shiro said, frowning as he inspected the blood-soaked jacket and the dark stain on the floor. "You can tell me everything in the castle; right now we need to bandage the wound properly so we can stabilize him until he gets to a pod."

"Already on it," Coran announced, rummaging through the first aid box and taking out a tube of some Altean ointment Keith did not recognize and a roll of thick bandages, while Shiro peeled Keith's jacket off Lance's palm and threw it to the floor. The limb practically shone red once the pressure was removed, and Keith's eyesight suddenly blurred, knees growing weak even though he was still sitting.

He did this. _He_ did this and now Lance was dying because of him.

Lance, who has been right all along about this whole fight and tried to talk Keith out of it, was _dying_ – all because Keith was too arrogant to listen.

The guilt that wrapped around his chest was so overwhelming he felt as if his lungs were going to explode.

"Number Four, eyes on me, please," Coran's voice was heard from a distance. Keith inhaled slowly, blinking a few times to get his eyes to focus on the older man's face. Coran gave him a small smile, eyes wrinkling softly without a hint of fear or panic in them.

"That's it, keeping breathing and looking at my face," he encouraged. His arms never stopped working, opening the tube and smearing a thick layer of the mint-scented ointment on the cut. Keith took another deep breath, forcing himself to keep looking at Coran and not at Lance's hand.

"You're doing great," Coran said kindly. "And Number Three is going to be fine as well. This Altean clotting cream is pretty strong; it shall hold until we get to the castle. There is absolutely nothing to worry about."

And although there was _so_ much to worry about that Coran and Shiro hadn't known yet, for now Keith allowed himself to believe the advisor's words.

Lance was going to be okay.

Whether _he_ and Lance were going to be okay… well, that was a totally different question.

**

Keith paced back and forth in front of the lines of cryopods, glancing nervously at the infirmary's clock. A shiver wrecked his body every now and then – the infirmary was chillier than the rest of the castle, and his jacket had been thrown into laundry almost immediately after they reached the castle – but he didn't dare go to his room and fetch something warmer to wear. Lance's two vargas in the pod were about to end, and Keith had sworn he'd be there when he was out.

Honestly, it was a miracle that all Lance has ended up with was two vargas in a pod. The Orlean blade did manage to pierce a small part of the bone (a fact that sent Hunk hurling his entire breakfast in the infirmary's bathroom once it was mentioned by Coran), but only enough to crack it, not shutter it completely. It also didn't hit any major blood vessels or nerves, which meant Lance was expected to make a full recovery. Coran said that his hand might be a bit stiff or uncooperative for the next day or two, but after some exercise it should return to being completely functional.

Those were excellent news, and Keith wanted nothing more than go back to his room and cry his relief into a pillow, but once Lance's medical condition was made clear the others urged him to tell them what exactly happened at the mall. And Keith had no choice but to tell them, since delaying the inevitable could only work for him for so long.

If he thought Hunk and Pidge's reaction was harsh – the two of them took turns at yelling at him for being a stupid, selfish asshole and hurting their friend like this (Hunk burst into tears at some point while Pidge had to be held back by Shiro as she waved her fists and hissed at Keith like a furious cat) - it was nothing in comparison to Allura's ice-cold glare as she told Keith that his behavior was no less than disgraceful and _not_ suiting a paladin of Voltron whatsoever. He was pretty sure that being run through with the Orlean blade stung less than her words.

Coran did not take part in the round of reprimands, and although the solemn look he gave Keith lacked any heat, it didn't offer any comfort either. As for Shiro…. Well, angering Shiro had always been Keith's greatest fear, but now that it finally happened, it was so much worse than he'd imagined. Because Shiro wasn't just angry; he was _disappointed_ , and Keith honestly preferred being yelled at until his ears rang than having to live with the knowledge that he had lost his leader's trust.

"This was the most irresponsible thing you could've ever done," Shiro said after everyone else has gone (he was a bit reluctant to let Pidge go, but the girl only gave Keith one last glare before storming out of the room, muttering to herself about going to her lab and playing with some codes to relax). His eyes were cold and hard and Keith suddenly felt very, very small, wanting to avert his gaze but knowing it'll deprive him of what little dignity he still had.

"We are fighting a war," Shiro continued, arms crossed. "And every battle can be our last battle if we're not careful enough. That is why we need to choose those battles wisely. And what you did today was _not_ a wise choice. Not only you put your own life at risk – you put Lance's as well. You're both paladins of Voltron, the only hope the universe has against Zarkon; we can't afford to lose you, especially not because of something that could’ve been prevented easily."

"I know," Keith said in a small voice.

Shiro's jaw worked as he considered his next words. "I'm not going to punish you, because I don't think it'll help in any way," he said eventually. "I suppose you've already realized your mistake. But you _will_ talk to Lance once he's out of the pod and you _will_ apologize. I know these conversations make you uncomfortable, but you owe him that much."

Keith nodded silently, not trusting his voice to speak up again. Shiro sighed and turned to exit the infirmary. As he passed Keith he made an awkward movement with his arm, as if wanting lay it on the younger boy's shoulder, but ended up shaking his head and walking to the door without looking back.

And so Keith spent the next two vargas in the infirmary, wallowing in his own guilt and self-pity.

A long beep followed by a _swoosh_ shook him off his depressing thoughts. Lance stumbled out of the pod, swaying in his place while squinting against the bright lights of the infirmary. Keith hurried forward and wrapped one arm around his waist to keep him upright.

"Hi there," Lance rasped, frowning as if he was surprised to see Keith there, of all people. "Why were _you_ the one to catch me? Am I dead? Am I in the afterlife where you're actually nice to me? Seriously, I can't decide if it's heaven or hell."

Keith felt his cheeks heat up. That _jerk._ "I can drop you if you hate it so much," he hissed.

Lance gave a lopsided smile. "Now _that_ sounds more like the Keith I know." He looked around in slight confusion. "Um… what happened this time?"

Keith's eyes widened. "You don't remember?" he really didn't want to explain everything again, especially not to Lance.

Lane hummed. "Well, I remember we were at the mall and you got all worked up about some dumb sword and there was this weird ferret creature who wanted to fight you for it and then… _Oh_." He gasped and stared at his right palm, shoulders drooping as he took in the smooth, unscarred skin. "Ah, _gracias a Dios_ ," he breathed. "I thought I was going to lose it."

Keith's stomach clenched. "Well, Coran said it might take a day or two until you can use it normally again, but you're supposed to make a full recovery, so… that's good." It sounded so lame when _he_ said it.

Apparently Lance thought so too, as he huffed out a laugh. "Always the bearer of good news, Keith," he gently left Keith's side and wobbled his way to the nearby bed, sitting on it carefully. "How about you?" he asked in a softer tone. "You okay?"

Keith flinched. Lance was the one who had been hurt because of Keith's stupidity while he himself got away without a scratch. So why the hell did he ask him if _he_ was okay? "I'm fine," he muttered.

"Good. Because you were kind of freaking out back there."

"Well, you were bleeding quite a lot. It was…" Keith shuddered as the image of Lance's red, mutilated hand surfaced in his mind again and his breath hitched for a moment.

"Hey, man, come on," Lance bent closer to him, concern evident on his face. "It's over. I'm okay now. Everything is okay."

"No, it's not," Keith's voice rose without his permission and he ran a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to compose himself. "You could have _died_ , Lance, all because I acted like... like an _asshole_. It wasn't even a fight against the Galra - it was just some stupid, pointless bet with a guy whom I should’ve never trusted in the first place. You called his bluff right away and tried to warn me, but I didn't listen." He raised his eyes to the ceiling as treacherous tears began to prickle his eyes. "And then I told you that _you_ were only thinking about yourself! Fuck, what is _wrong_ with me?!”

 "Whoa, Keith, calm down," Lance said, clearly taken aback by this sudden burst of emotion. "I get that you're upset about what happened but dude, you need to _chill_. I only got my hand cut. Sure, it wasn't exactly fun and hurt like hell, but it wasn't a fatal wound either."

"No, but it could have," Keith insisted. "And even if it was just a scratch, it's a scratch that should have never happened. I…" he recalled Shiro's words. "I can't afford to lose you, Lance. Not like this. Not ever."

"Same here, man," Lance said with a tentative smile. He couldn't say he wasn't touched by Keith's speech, but it was also a bit unsettling. "I'm just glad we're both alive. I honestly thought this guy was going to finish you off when he grew this freakish third arm out of nowhere."

"I would have probably deserved it," Keith said quietly.

"Hey, don't say that."

"I mean it. After everything I did, all those horrible things I said to you… you still jumped to protect me. You," Keith's chuckled without humor, "You've _got_ to stop doing that. It's not healthy."

"So is picking up fights with sly and clearly _evil_ arms dealers."

Keith sighed. "Yeah. So… how about we both agree to keep each other from doing such reckless things again? I won't make bets with people I don't trust, no matter how cool the prize is, and you won't go and throw your life away whenever you see someone in danger. We'll… we'll have each other backs on this."

"This sounds like a good plan." Lance grinned and offered his hand for shaking. Keith took it in his own, but before he knew it he lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Lance's back and buried his face in the taller boy's shoulder, not caring about the antiseptic smell of the cryosuit.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said tightly. "And I'm sorry. About everything."

"I forgive you," Lance said gently, leaning into the hug. No matter how surreal this bonding moment was, it was still so much better then after he had blown up Sendak's arm and collapsed unconsciously to the floor, body burned and bruised. And yes, he _did_ remember this one; he just hadn't told Keith because the expression on Mullet's face was so hilarious back then. But now he seriously considered telling him the truth.

He was about to let the words out when a different thought popped into his mind. "Hey," he said. "What happened to Gediok in the end?"

He felt Keith tense up. "I don't know. We didn't exactly have time to come back there, and I honestly don't care." He tightened his arms around Lance a bit more. "Besides, I don't want that sword anymore. Not… not after it hurt you."

Lance nearly melted at the last sentence and was more than grateful when his stomach suddenly gave a loud rumble, ruining the moment. "Jeez, even a short visit to the pod makes you starve," he said and leaned backwards, rubbing his aching belly. "Although I did miss lunch, so that makes sense. I better head to the kitchen before Hunk yells at me to eat something."

"I doubt it. He and Pidge have probably ruined their throats from yelling at _me_ ," Keith said, looking at the floor.

Lane winced in sympathy. "Oh no. That must've been ugly."

"Not as ugly as Allura and Shiro’s reactions."

"Gosh, the princess _and_ Space Dad. You really had it tough today, didn't you?"

"Well… I kind of deserved it."

"I agree with you on this one." Lance patted Keith's shoulder. "Now, how about you start with the whole having-my-back-thing by escorting me to the kitchen? Just so I won't face-plant the floor. Still feel kind of cryo-dizzy."

Keith smiled, feeling at peace for the first time today. Of course he will have Lance's back; he always will, just like Lance will always have his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, people! Our boys are both safe and sound and finally had an appropriate bonding moment. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed this!

**Author's Note:**

> Did you enjoy this? Please take a minute to leave a comment! Who knows, maybe it'll encourage me to upload the second part faster ;)


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